A Dream Come True
by elizaye
Summary: She just can't stop fantasizing about him. What happens when he finds out? "I'm going to have you tonight, whether you like it or not. You might as well go along with it. It'll be more enjoyable for both of us." Rated M for smut/language. ONESHOT


**Author's Note:** The stuff I've posted so far has been relatively dark, and I really felt like writing something less dark. So, here is a lighter-themed story. It's set in their seventh year in an alternate universe, where the war ended in fifth year. Voldemort was killed when he showed up at the Ministry of Magic.

And a warning for easily offended people: this story is rated M for language and sex. And the characters are a little out-of-character.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from _Harry Potter_, only this silly plot (except that there's actually not much of a plot…).

**A Dream Come True**

Hermione threw her head back and let out a soft sigh as he tweaked one of her nipples gently. His hands trailed down her flat stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps. He spread her legs apart, and she drew a sharp breath when one of his fingers brushed against her clit. He began to rub in a circular motion, and she shuddered.

"Oh god… _Draco…_ oh…_ oh Draco_," she moaned.

Fingers shoved into her pulsing warmth, and she cried out in pleasure. They pumped in and out, increasing in pace until she was bucking her hips uncontrollably and screaming her release. Liquid gushed out of her as she came.

She pulled her own fingers out of herself and let her head fall back against the side of the tub, trying to catch her breath. When her chest stopped heaving and the shattering pleasure subsided, she opened her eyes and sighed as she took in the otherwise empty Prefects' bathroom.

She'd been disgusted with herself the first time that blond-haired, grey-eyed boy had marched in and taken charge of her fantasies. But when that image—the image of him sweating, strands of that perfect blond hair falling into his stormy grey eyes, as he pumped furiously into her—filled her mind, she'd come harder than she ever had before, at that time. She had been determined to wipe him out of her mind, but her fantasy-versions of all other males at the school failed to arouse her the way he did.

Finally, filled with pent-up sexual frustration, she attributed the attraction to Draco Malfoy to her irrational, raging teenage hormones. After reaching that conclusion, she had had an extremely satisfying session of self-pleasure, and she hadn't been able to exclude him from her fantasies since.

She sometimes wondered what it would be like to touch the _real_ Malfoy, what his skin would feel like, what his lips would taste like. But these thoughts never lasted long—the real Malfoy would never look at her unless they were throwing insults at each other. And it wasn't as if she actually wanted to touch the real him, anyway.

Honestly, she had absolutely no desire for real Malfoy at all.

* * *

Draco jumped up the last few steps to the fifth floor and strode past the statue of Boris the Bewildered.

He gave the password, but the door didn't open, which meant someone inside had locked it. He groaned. Who would be in there so late at night? He'd counted on the bathroom being empty so he could relax for a while.

Theo and Blaise were pissed at each other yet again.

The first time, it'd been amusing, watching them throw insults back and forth. The second time, the argument had escalated to hexing, and Draco had had to Disarm them both to stop them from hurting each other. He hadn't been around for the third or fourth fights, and they'd ended up at the hospital wing both times. He didn't understand what had turned them into such drama queens, but seeing his two friends bickering like an old married couple gave him a headache.

That evening, the three of them had gone down into the dungeons just fine, but once they got into their room, Blaise said something that Theo didn't like, and wands had been whipped out yet again. Sick of being in the middle of their hissy fits, Draco had gone out into the common room.

Next thing he knew, there was a loud bang and the smell of smoke, and when Draco reentered his room, he found that two beds were on fire—Blaise's and his own. The two idiots were unconscious, and Draco had had to put out the fires and get them up to the hospital wing. He was royally pissed off, and taking a very, _very_ long bath had sounded like the perfect way to unwind.

But now, the Prefects' bath was occupied and he didn't want to go all the way back down to the dungeons to use the regular baths. Angrily, he pressed his ear to the door to see if he could hear who was inside so he could give them a proper punishment tomorrow morning. Maybe they'd be singing or something.

For a moment, he didn't hear anything, but then he thought he heard a faint female moan. One of his eyebrows shot up. Had he just caught someone masturbating? Oh, that could possibly make up for his awful night.

Another moan, louder this time.

He grinned, still listening intently.

Then he distinctly heard his first name in a throaty groan.

It didn't surprise him that a girl would be masturbating to his image—he had to be the most attractive male Hogwarts had ever seen—but to catch one in the act… this just kept getting better and better. As the girl's cries grew louder and louder, he tried to place her voice but couldn't.

It wasn't someone he'd had sex with before—the sounds of her pleasure were especially arousing to him, and he hadn't ever been turned on by the sound of a female in the throes of pleasure. Those sounds had merely been something that came with his own sexual gratification.

He could tell when she was about to reach her peak, screaming his name over and over at the top of her lungs. He was unbelievably hard now, and this bothered him. No female should be able to arouse him to this point without even being _seen_ by him.

Suddenly furious with this mystery girl, he stalked away from the prefects' bathroom to go take a cold shower in the Slytherin Dungeons.

* * *

"Hermione, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione snapped at Ron. He looked hurt, and she said quickly, "I'm sorry Ron, I'm just tired. I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"If you didn't spend so much time studying, maybe you'd be able to sleep at night. Honestly, I think all that school stuff keeps you up at night."

Oh, how wrong he was. Hermione just shook her head and looked back down at her textbook.

"Hermione, come on," said Harry. "Let's all go out and visit Hagrid. We promised to go see him sometime this week anyway."

"You two can go ahead. I'll just finish up this chapter."

"Please, Hermione? You _have_ to get your head out of those books _sometimes_," said Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes and snapped her book shut. "Fine, I'll come, but I'm taking this with me."

Ron snatched the book out of her hands. "I'll carry it for you," he offered.

With a sigh, Hermione followed the boys out of the library. She had been reading the Arithmancy book, but she supposed she had time for a stroll. Harry and Ron talked animatedly about the Quidditch match they had won yesterday, and Hermione found her mind wandering. She didn't care much for Ron's spectacular saves or the fact that Harry had just barely beat Malfoy to catching the snitch.

Malfoy. Just hearing his last name coming out of Harry's mouth sent shivers down her spine and caused a familiar warmth to grow in her belly, and she frantically scrambled to think of something else. She started mentally listing the ingredients of Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent.

As they passed by the lake, Ron stopped walking, and Hermione, who had been two steps behind him, almost crashed into him.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Ron was staring toward the edge of the lake, where Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott were lounging. There was a small crowd of girls standing a short distance from them.

"Ron, let's just go," said Harry, shaking his head.

"We're the ones who won the war. I hate how he gets all this attention. He doesn't _deserve_ it," Ron muttered darkly. "Just because he's got a pretty face."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't understand why that bothers you so much. What would you do with all that attention anyway?"

Ron shrugged. "I just think it'd be more fair if—"

"Malfoy hardly bothers arguing with us anymore," said Harry. "Will it kill you to just leave it? I'm way beyond caring about what he does as long as I keep beating his arse at Quidditch."

Hermione had glanced over at the blond-haired Slytherin and found that she couldn't pull her gaze away. His white-blond hair fell into his sparkling silver eyes. His cheekbones and jaw were defined, masculine, and he had a perfectly proportioned nose. He didn't have on his school robes today, and she could see his clean, white oxford shirt. The top few buttons were unbuttoned, revealing a bit of the muscular chest that lay underneath.

Gods, she had to stop looking before she started drooling.

Just as this thought crossed her mind, his face turned upward, and their eyes met for a split second. Hermione rapidly turned her eyes away, but not before a small smirk stretched his lips.

"Let's go," Hermione said to Harry and Ron.

"He's already coming this way," said Harry. "He's going to think we're running from him if we leave right now."

Hermione sighed, trying to pass the reason for her irritation off as impatience. She had hated confrontations with him ever since she started having those stupid fantasies about him.

"Well, well, well, look at what we have here," said Zabini.

"Running off to Hagrid's house, are we? Gonna visit that giant oaf?" asked Nott.

Hermione didn't hear Harry or Ron's heated responses to Nott's comment because she had noticed Malfoy's eyes on her. She threw him a venomous glare, and he smirked again. She hated that look, _hated_ the way that it somehow turned her on. Ugh, she was sick.

"What are you looking at, Malfoy?" she heard Ron bark.

Malfoy's gaze shifted to the redhead. "Now? I'm looking at an overgrown weasel that's about to throw a temper tantrum."

Ron turned beet red and whipped out his wand. "Take that back, you slimy little ferret."

"Oh no, Draco, better not piss off the mighty little weasel," said Zabini in mock fear as Malfoy and Nott laughed.

"Ronald, control yourself. All you're going to get out of that is a detention," said Hermione.

"Yeah that's right, Granger. Put a leash on that weasel of yours," said Malfoy.

Ron fired a hex at Malfoy, but Zabini, who had his wand in his hand already, blocked the hex. Nott hexed Ron in retaliation, but Hermione flicked her wand, blocking it. Harry had grabbed Ron's wand arm, holding it down.

"Can't defend yourself, Malfoy?" said Ron, jerking his head toward Zabini.

Malfoy had a small smirk on his face again. "It's not because I can't, it's because I'd rather not waste my energy on people like you."

"Piss off, Malfoy," said Harry. "If you leave us alone, we'll leave you alone."

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly and cocked his head to the side. "I could care less either way."

His eyes shifted back to Hermione, and she quickly focused on Zabini instead. He was absentmindedly twirling his wand between his fingertips.

"Granger, I saw you," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm standing right here. If you didn't see me, you'd be blind."

He winked and gave her a devilish grin, and her stomach did a flip.

"What are you on about, Malfoy?" Ron growled.

"Oh don't worry, Weaselbee. I don't fancy your Mudblood girlfriend."

"But that doesn't mean he's not a threat," said Nott, grinning. "Mudblood's been checking out our Seeker here."

"Don't insult Hermione's taste like that," said Ron, glaring at them.

"And I'm not dating anyone," said Hermione.

She and Ron had started dating at the beginning of sixth year, but their arguments only got worse, and when she said she wasn't ready to have sex, he'd gotten sullen and whiney. Hermione had decided that their relationship wouldn't work out, so she'd broken up with him about halfway through sixth year. Ron still seemed to be a little sore over it, but at least their friendship had recovered.

"That's not an insult to her taste," said Nott. "After dating _you_, anyone's a step up."

"Except you, maybe," Zabini said to Nott, laughing.

Nott glared at him and opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off by Malfoy.

"_Don't_. You two are going to stop right there."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at the blond Slytherin, surprised at the tone in his voice. Was he actually annoyed with his two best friends?

"As fun as this was, these little conversations are getting rather boring to me," said Malfoy. "Be seeing you."

With that, he turned and headed back toward the castle. Nott shot Zabini a very angry look, and they went in the opposite direction, toward the Forbidden Forest. The group of girls, who had followed the Slytherin trio over to them and watched the exchange from a distance, turned to follow Malfoy into the castle.

Ron shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. "I can't _stand_ him. _Or_ all those stupid girls who worship the ground he walks on."

"Honestly Ron, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you were jealous of him," said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

Ron glared at her but didn't say anything.

"Let's just… visit Hagrid," said Harry, clearly wanting to avoid an argument between his best friends.

Hermione walked with them in silence. She couldn't stop replaying Malfoy's wink in her mind. It was such a natural gesture, but on his face, it looked far from natural.

Oh, god. She felt attracted to the real Malfoy now. This couldn't be good.

As they reached Hagrid's hut, she pushed those thoughts away. She could worry about her stupid, stupid desires later. If only her brain had control over those unreasonable hormones.

* * *

"Oh—oh—_oh—oh god—Draco! Draco! Draco!"_

Draco looked down at the girl writhing beneath him uninterestedly. She was screaming his name, but it had absolutely no effect on him. He felt her clenching around him and emptied himself into her after a few last thrusts, but he still felt extremely unsatisfied. He pulled out and rolled off her.

He had slept with a different girl every night in the week that had passed since the night he'd come across that mystery girl in the Prefects' bathroom, but he hadn't been satisfied by any of them. That girl's voice plagued him, cornering him in his dreams and playing into his ears whenever he fucked.

He couldn't take it anymore. He had to find out who this girl was and give her a good fuck to get her out of his system. No one—_no one—_could affect him this way and get away with it.

* * *

Hermione flipped over yet again in bed. She usually restricted herself to one session of self-pleasure every two weeks. But Malfoy had surfaced in her dreams repeatedly for the last few nights, and she had woken up each time dripping with aching need.

Fed up, she crawled out of bed. Maybe she could change it to once a week, and that would be enough to satisfy her. But before switching to two week intervals, she had tried once a month. If this pattern kept on going, she'd be masturbating once a night.

Ignoring the nagging voices in her head that told her she should just go back to bed, she gathered her things and crept out of her room and through the empty Gryffindor common room. She reached the Prefects' bathroom in record time and shut the door behind her. She turned a few of the taps and let steamy, bubbly water fill the tub as she undressed.

A few minutes later, she slipped into the warm water with a satisfied sigh. Leaning against the side of the tub, she closed her eyes. In her mind's eye, she immediately saw her prince wading through the water toward her. She shivered in anticipation and slid her hands up and down her curves, imagining that they were his hands.

She moaned softly as she worked her nipples up into perky points, and then she slid her hands slowly down toward her center, where she ached to be touched. When her hands reached their destination, she let out a breathy moan and immediately plunged two fingers into herself, eliciting another moan of pleasure.

As her fingers increased their pace, her breathing became more erratic and her sounds of pleasure grew louder and louder.

Then a pair of hands rested on her hips, and a mouth glided from her shoulder to her neck. She gasped but couldn't stop the frantic pumping of her fingers—she was so, so close. As she flew over the edge, a mouth slanted over hers possessively, swallowing up her cry of pleasure. A tongue slipped into her still-open mouth, massaging her tongue. Still too caught-up in the sensations of the moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer…

NO! What was she doing? Kissing and pressing her naked self against a stranger! She shoved at his chest, and her eyes popped open as she broke the kiss.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Malfoy?

* * *

Draco prowled down the hallway yet again.

He'd checked the Prefects' bathroom every night at this time for a few nights—he honestly couldn't think of any other way to find that mystery girl. He'd found himself listening intently to girls' voices as they passed by him in the halls, or as they spoke up in class, but he still hadn't heard that distinct voice that stirred heat in his loins.

He muttered the password and was disappointed when the door swung inward. He began to turn away, but a familiar sound made him freeze.

She was there.

And she'd forgotten to lock the door.

Unable to believe his luck, he slipped silently into the room and shut the door behind him noiselessly, making sure to lock it. Then he turned to get his first glimpse of that girl.

She was leaning against the side of the tub closest to him, with her back turned. Her hair was brown and dripping wet, water droplets shimmering in the dim light. She moaned his name, and his cock jumped to attention.

Stifling a groan, he moved toward a bench and stripped down, leaving his clothes on the bench. He crossed the room, and as he moved closer, he caught a glimpse of her face.

His jaw dropped, all semblance of composure leaving him for a moment.

Mudblood Granger?

The snooty Mudblood prude screamed _his_ name while pleasuring herself?

He knew that it wasn't the right reaction, but he felt himself grow even harder at the realization. No, he really had to get her out of his system before she screwed with his values, too.

He slipped into the water, but she didn't notice his presence—she was nearing her peak again, uttering his name over and over. He took a few steps before stopping to observe his prey.

He'd never seen her face like this before. Her eyes were squeezed shut while her mouth hung open, gasping for air between her cries of pleasure. Her neck was long and slim, coated with a combination of water and perspiration. His eyes followed her curves downward, appreciating her choice of bathwater that was clear of bubbles. She had good-sized breasts, and just imagining giving them a good squeeze made it harder for him to breathe. She had a flat stomach and wide hips, resulting in a subtle hourglass figure. He forced himself to skip over her furiously pumping fingers to observe her legs, pleased with what he saw. Her legs were long, shapely.

So this was what she kept hidden under those robes.

He took two more steps and placed his hands on her hips, leaning over to press his lips to her right shoulder. He slid his mouth to the left, toward her neck, and felt a thrill shoot through him as she gasped in surprise.

He lifted his head to look down at her face, her mouth still making a round "o" as she panted almost deliriously. Then he swooped down, covering her mouth with his, just as she reached her peak and cried in pleasure. He slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Merlin, no one had ever tasted so perfect to him before.

He massaged her tongue with his, enticing her to respond to his kiss. She responded readily, throwing her arms around his neck and tugging at his hair as she pressed herself up against him. He grunted in satisfaction, sliding his hands around her hips to her lower back and pulling her away from the wall of the tub.

Then she pulled her hands back and shoved at his chest, and he smirked as she broke the kiss. He didn't have to open his eyes to know that she would have a shocked expression on her face.

He slowly lifted his lids to see her brown eyes wide as those of a deer caught in the headlights.

"M-M-Malfoy? W-what are you—" she spluttered.

"Aw don't talk, Granger. You're ruining the moment," said Draco, giving her his best sexy smile, the one that no girl could resist.

"But—but—"

She shoved at his chest again to no avail—he had his arms wrapped around her tightly so that she couldn't get away from him.

"Think of this as… a dream come true."

He laughed at the appalled look on her face and dipped his head to kiss her senseless. Her lips were pressed tightly shut, but this didn't discourage him. He trailed his fingers down her back, making her stiffen against him—she had a chance to push him away, but she wasn't taking it.

He smirked against her lips. He'd won this battle already.

His hands caressed her bottom and squeezed lightly, making her gasp in surprise. His tongue slipped into that warm, delicious cavern, and she melted into his arms. The hands that had been pressing against his chest now wandered downward across his abs, and he brought one of his hands to her front, stroking that most intimate spot.

She jerked in surprise and broke the kiss, which allowed his lips to wander down her neck. He repeated the motion, and she moaned.

"_Ohhh, Draco_…"

He shoved two fingers inside her, and she drew a sharp breath, digging her fingers into his shoulders. She was very tight, and the thought of ripping her open made his lips curl into a wicked grin. He kissed his way down her chest and licked her nipple, working it to a point, all the while continuing to push his fingers in and out of her pulsing heat. He established a rhythm, pausing now and then to make a brief beckoning motion with his fingers.

Those little whimpers coming from the back of her throat were going to be the death of him.

* * *

She couldn't think. She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe.

She clung to Malfoy like her life depended on it. Her brain had flown out the window the second time her tongue twisted with his in a battle for dominance.

When his finger brushed against her sensitive spot, she gasped and threw her head back, breaking their kiss. His lips made their way down her neck, and she moaned his name when he rubbed her clit again.

Then his fingers were inside her, and she gasped sharply, sinking her nails into his shoulders.

This felt so, so different from what she'd imagined—so much more intense, so much more irresistible. How would she ever let go of him?

His lips latched around one of her nipples, and she moaned loudly, completely consumed by the tidal wave of sensations rippling through her body. His fingers made a beckoning motion inside her, and she softly whimpered his name.

She rocked her hips, trying to get more friction against his hand, but he pulled his fingers out, and she mewled in disappointment. To get back at him, she slid both her hands between them and gripped his erection.

Her eyes widened as she ran her hands slowly up and down, feeling the length and girth of him. She glanced down and gasped at the sight—how would he ever fit inside her? She started shaking her head, but one of his hands moved under her chin and lifted her face up to look at him.

As though he'd read her mind, he smirked and said, "Don't worry, I'll fit."

He looked smug, and she narrowed her eyes, wanting to wipe that insufferable smirk off his face. She tightened her grip on his manhood, and he gasped involuntarily. She hadn't expected it to be _that_ effective, and it bolstered her confidence to know that she had power over him, too.

He had swollen up even more under her fingers, something she'd thought was impossible. She moved her hands up and down his shaft, and his jaw clenched—it seemed like he was repressing his reaction.

No, she wouldn't have that, not after he'd forced her to gasp and moan like a slut.

She leaned forward and kissed the base of his neck, and he shivered. She moved her hands faster and squeezed every so often, eliciting short, forced grunts from him. That was more like it.

But then he tugged her hands away from him, and she glanced up at him. He stared at her through half-lidded eyes, hazy with lust, and the intensity made her start to back away.

She wasn't ready for this, she suddenly realized. She was playing with something too powerful, too big—_literally_ too big—for her.

His arms tightened around her before she could get away, and once again she found herself trapped against his chest. Now genuinely afraid, she pushed at his chest in desperation.

"Malfoy, don't—"

His mouth covered hers, interrupting her protest. She tried to lean away from him, but he just leaned forward until she was trapped against the wall of the bath.

"Please—I—mm—ahh—ma—I—" she mumbled, trying to speak around his tongue.

Finally he backed off her to speak.

"Shut up, Granger," he growled huskily.

"But I—"

Malfoy's glare made her pause, but then he barked impatiently, "Well, get on with it!"

She jumped, hating how intimidated she felt. She blamed it on his huge height advantage, the immense disparity between his strength and hers, and the fact that she felt his giant length pressed against her belly.

"Malfoy, I'm not ready," she said in a steady voice that belied the fear brewing in her gut.

He cocked one eyebrow up, looking downright irresistible. "The object of your fantasies is yours, and you're going to turn it down?"

Hermione swallowed. "I didn't say—I just—" She stopped. She had to think before speaking. Count to three, and _then_ talk. One, two…

"Honestly Granger, the way you were moaning my name, anyone would think you wanted me to shag your brains out," said Malfoy, smirking.

She flushed and dropped her eyes to his chest. It was true that she wanted him—she ached to feel his touch in her most private place, wanted to feel him inside her. But she was afraid. She'd always wanted her first time to be romantic, always thought that it would be with the love of her life, someone who was willing to take it slow and be patient for her. Malfoy was never the man she had had in mind. He was the object of her fantasies, yes, but most definitely not her ideal first partner.

He was rubbing her arms gently now.

"Granger."

His voice was exceptionally soft, and she looked up into his eyes. They burned into hers, but she couldn't turn her eyes away again, lost in those swirling pools of silver.

"I'm going to have you tonight, whether you like it or not. You might as well accept it and go along with me. It'll be more enjoyable for both of us."

She gulped. Why was she being such a coward? She'd been dreaming about him in this way for a long time. But she'd never wanted the _real_ him! Never! She just liked the _idea_ of being with Malfoy. That didn't mean she actually wanted the real Malfoy. It was completely different.

"Will you stop thinking?" he growled. "I'd like to pick up where we left off."

Hermione blinked. So was he really giving her a choice?

She slowly trailed her fingers up his sides, marveling at the complete lack of fat on his body. She brought her hands all the way up, past his shoulders, following his neck until they were on his cheeks. He was just watching her, a soft smile gracing his lips, and she realized that if she really, _really_ didn't want this to happen, he wouldn't force himself on her. Wasn't that what she wanted? Someone who would wait for her if she wasn't ready? But what about love and romance and taking it slow?

Oh, close enough.

She tugged his head downward, and their lips met.

* * *

Draco was frustrated. He'd trapped her to his chest so that she couldn't go anywhere, but she was clearly thinking way too much. How could she think when he was so close to her? Usually girls swooned if he so much as _looked_ at them, yet here he was, completely bared to this stubborn girl, and she was still _thinking!_ It was too much.

But of course, this was Mudblood Granger. She was _always_ thinking. He smirked. He'd wipe those thoughts out of her head when he drove himself home inside her. He rubbed her arms gently—if he wanted to get her ready for him, he would have to act patient. His raging hard-on urged him to just take her right there, but he wasn't keen on forcing her.

"Granger," he purred.

Ah, the soft voice worked. Her eyes swept up to meet his. He made sure his eyes looked passionate, a look he had perfected in his experiences with girls. That worked too. She was staring into his eyes as though mesmerized.

"I'm going to have you tonight, whether you like it or not. You might as well accept it and go along with me. It'll be more enjoyable for both of us," he bluffed. If she believed that, it was more likely that she would simply submit to him.

She didn't reply, but she was still looking into his eyes. What the bloody hell was she thinking about? He wished he could reach into her head, access that frustrating, oversized brain of hers and turn it _off_.

"Will you stop thinking? I'd like to pick up where we left off," he said.

She blinked, but her eyes continued to stare into his.

Then he felt her hands graze against his hips, and he unnoticeably drew a deep breath through his nose. Her hands moved up his sides agonizingly slowly, but he couldn't rush her. He had to make it seem like this was her choice.

She probably wanted something romantic. Even if she was Mudblood Granger, Know-It-All Granger, she was still a girl. She probably dreamed of castles and dragons and princes who came to save the day. While he couldn't give her any of that, he could certainly make it seem like he would wait for her until she was ready.

As her hands reached his shoulders and slid toward his neck, he allowed himself a small smile, keeping it as sincere as possible. When her hands slid up his neck to rest on his cheeks, he knew he'd fooled her. The smartest witch in the school wasn't that difficult to manipulate after all.

Then she tugged his head down for a kiss, and he tightened his arms around her, pulling her back up against him again. But he let her take the lead on this kiss, knowing that if he pushed her too soon, she might back down again. Eventually she licked his lips tentatively, but he kept his lips shut and preoccupied himself with running his hands up and down her smooth back.

Then her teeth tugged his lower lip into her mouth, and she sucked on it. He groaned and, unable to hold back anymore, invaded her mouth with his tongue. She moaned into his mouth and yanked on his hair and the nape of the neck. He squeezed her bottom again, lifting her up a little—the water made this very easy. She wrapped her long legs around his waist, surprising him. He reached one hand down between them to rub her clit, and she broke the kiss to release a long, breathy moan.

He teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, and she shivered. She pulled his head forward and lifted her chin up so that he could feel her breath on his ear.

"Take me," she whispered. "Before I change my mind."

He didn't need to be told twice.

Draco gave a quick shove, and _bloody hell_ it felt good. She felt so, so tight around him. He hadn't pushed in all the way, instead stopping just after breaking her barrier. He looked down to find that her mouth had fallen open in a silent scream. He held still and kissed her nose, cheeks, lips, murmuring softly that she was going to be okay.

What the fuck was he _doing?_ Was he honestly trying to _comfort_ her? Pathetic.

Her whimpers of pain made him feel guilty, and although it went against every fiber of his being, he started to pull out of her. But before he had moved an inch, she surprised him again by tightening her legs around his waist to pull him back in.

"Oh, _fuck_," he grunted. "What are you doing, Granger?"

"I don't know," she replied breathlessly.

Her brown eyes were wide and staring up at him… imploringly? She was blushing furiously again. Draco smirked. She _wanted_ this. She _liked_ the feeling of him inside her. His realization made him want to start pounding into her immediately.

"You like this, don't you?" he hissed. When she started to look away, he snapped, "_Don't_ take your eyes off me."

She obediently kept her eyes locked on his, making him feel like he had so much authority. Mudblood Granger was completely in his power.

He slowly slid out of her and then thrust back in, shoving a little farther in this time. She shut her eyes and cried out in pleasure. He continued this very slow place, gradually pushing farther in as her opening adjusted to his size.

"Draco, _please_…" said Hermione after several more thrusts.

"Please what?"

"I want…" her voice faded off.

Draco stopped moving and smirked, waiting for her to find the words. He'd been told that he had endurance matched by very, very few men, but even now it was taking all of his self-control not to plow right into her and satisfy himself. He didn't think he'd ever fucked such a tight girl. He couldn't wait for her to start begging so that he could remove the leash he'd put around himself.

She dropped her voice to a whisper that sounded much more seductive than she'd probably intended.

"I want _more_, Draco."

He leaned forward to flick her earlobe with his tongue, making her shudder. Then he lowered his voice to the same volume as hers to reply, "Your wish is my command, _Mudblood_."

Before she could respond, he pulled out and buried himself to the hilt inside her, and she screamed his name. God, feeling her tight walls trying to adjust to his girth was immensely satisfying, and that _sound_, it almost made him come right then.

She dragged her nails down his back.

"_More_," she demanded.

He heartily obliged, increasing the pace and delving deeper inside her as she rocked her hips to meet each thrust, the pleasure accumulating until it was almost unbearable. He continued to hold back, wanting to satisfy her first. Her cries grew steadily louder, and the sound echoed in his ears, encouraging him to move even faster.

Then she hit her peak, and her muscles clenched even more tightly than before around him, forcing a loud groan out of him. Spasms rocked her body as she writhed against him. The extra tightening of her inner muscles, coupled with her screams of ecstasy, finally sent him over the edge, and he emptied his load into her with a shout of her name.

He let his forehead rest in the crook of her neck and felt her hands stroking his hair softly. Somehow, the feeling of her small fingers running through his hair made him feel more content than that remarkable shag had. He closed his eyes with a feeling of dread rising in his chest.

Merlin, was he in trouble.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I really don't know if I'll keep writing this because I sorta got tired… so I'll leave it as a one-shot for now. It won't be continued unless I get more inspiration. Oh, and if you've been reading _Vengeance_, this one-shot is NOT the story that I was referring to at the end of Ch. 13 (Training). That one is still in the pipes.

If you liked it, leave me a review and let me know! It makes me happy, and I write better (and faster) when I'm happy. If you didn't like it, leave me a review telling me what you didn't like and I'll try to improve. Either way, I hope you had fun reading it!


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